I don’t know what I’m doing.

Dear Self,

It is becoming increasingly obvious to me that I don’t know what it is that I’m doing.

Whatever it is it requires me to get in and out of a lot of taxis. Taxi drivers and hairdressers love to ask you what you do.

When they ask me I don’t know what to say. I have this crisis of identity where I realise I am unable to categorise myself in a way that matches both the social norms of the situation, which require an answer that opens an easy doorway to a conversation about that thing I do, and the reality of the multi-layered life I have created for myself.

It’s not that I don’t like what I do and so don’t want to say it. It probably looks like I’m embarrassed and avoiding the question. It’s not that. I just struggle to construct a version that feels right.

I think there‘s a little battle going on between what I want to be, what I think I should be, what I am, what others think I am, what I have skills in and what I could be skilled at.

I feel very confused.

I really like what I do.

Maybe I just need a job title so I feel validated by the world.

I really would like to sort this out.

Luke